One of the first to reach the elephant’s side was the Doctor.
“Archie, my lad!” he cried. “Minnie! My poor girl! Speak, lad—speak!”
Archie’s lips parted, and his old look of despair deepened as he tried to answer; but no word passed his parched lips, cracking now with fever and exhaustion. He only looked wildly in the Doctor’s imploring eyes and shook his head.
The Doctor uttered a groan, and then, as the elephant knelt in response to the mahout’s order, the Doctor’s despair died away to make room for duty.
“Now, my lads,” he cried, “half-a-dozen of you help them down and carry them carefully into hospital.—Cheer up, boys! I’ll soon put you right.—Ah, Sir Charles! You here? I can’t go.—Hold up, man!—Go up to my place and speak to my wife. But after this—be a man, sir!—there’s hope for us still.”
Chapter Thirty Two.
In the Doctor’s Hands.
“Lie still. What have you got to fidget about? I have done all I can, and made a decent job of your head. It looks quite respectable now, after what I have done with the scissors. That hair ought to have been cut close off first thing, so as to afford a place for decent bandages, and I feel quite astounded to see how kindly Nature has treated you. It must have been an awful blow, my boy, and if you hadn’t been of the stupid, thick-headed breed, you would have suffered from a comminuted fracture of the skull. Can’t you lie still?”